Seventy Times Seven
by Dinogeek
Summary: Being a storyteller is one of the oldest traditions in the world, passed down through the generations. There are stories about many different things: love, hate; war, peace; joy, sadness. But above all, stories are lessons, important ones. And it's Jackson Overland's job to tell them. Short little human!Jack one-shot.


**A/N: So yeah, guess who's not dead? Me. That's right. I've just been out of commission for a while with school stuff. Writing sort of got pushed into the 'only when I have spare time (which is never)' slot. But anyway. I ramble. This story that Jack tells is actually from a chapter in the other story that I'm working on and I decided to expand it into a one-shot just for funzies. The Bible verse is Matthew 18:22. Hope you enjoy, and like everyone I'd sure love a review! ^-^ **

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The bonfire glowed brightly against the dark night's sky as a cluster of children chased one another around. The village was having a celebration, a combination of a Saint's day and an old pagan festival, and that meant all the village children (and all the village adults) got to stay up late. Stray sparks from the bonfire flickered up towards the black sky where the stars glittered brightly, too numerous to count in the crystal clear while the full moon illuminated everything else.

A slim boy no older than thirteen leapt out of the shadows as the children ran past, snatching one of them up with a roar that soon dissolved into laughter. "Put me down, Jack!" the little girl shrieked. The boy laughed loudly.

"Alright, alright. You get your wish. Just make sure the ghosts don't get you." Jack grinned evilly and waggled his thin fingers towards the girl. "You know they wait for festival nights and then they come out and snatch the little kids who wander off on their own!" Much to his dismay, the girl giggled instead of shrieking again.

"Yeah right, Jackson Overland. Mama says ghosts aren't real." Jack put his hands on his hips, feigning hurt.

"Well now, that doesn't mean that _spirits_ aren't real, does it? You just gotta believe." Jack was forced to run as all the children turned to chase him instead of each other. The laughing boy weaved skillfully between the adults scattered throughout the village's main square until he himself was suddenly snatched up.

"Having fun, Jack?" His father smiled broadly at him, dangling his older child upside down. Jack returned the smile.

"Yeah, actually; thanks for asking pa."

"Well, I think you should have fun where you can't run into somebody, okay? And that goes for all of you little ones, alright?" The collection of children nodded rapidly and Jack's father swung his boy upright, putting him back on his feet. Jack turned back to the kids.

"C'mon, let's go play by the bonfire! We'll have a contest to see who can dance the longest." It was after midnight by the time the last of the kids collapsed onto the soft hay surrounding the blaze. Jack leaned back against a log, relaxing as he took in everything around him: the night sky and the stars, the flickering of the bonfire, the smell of the smoke, and the laughter of the village's adults as they drank with each other. Some of the other children had finally gotten their breath back and were giggling with one another, throwing stray pieces of hay into the bonfire to watch them flare up and turn to ash.

After a few minutes of relaxation, the kids all rolled over and scrambled into a circle around the bonfire. Soon, they knew, the festival would be over and they would have to go to bed, but they had a request to make of Jack first.

"Tell us a story!" one of them called out. The other children took up the cry.

"Yeah Jackson, tell us a really good story, like the ones from the Bible!" Jack smiled at the cluster of children around him as they sat by the fire. It seemed like every kid from the village had gathered around him, wanting to hear the trickster's stories again and again.

"Okay," he told them with mock-resignation, "one story and then it's bed time for the lot of you. Are you all ready to hear it?" The gathered kids cheered, and even a few adults made their way over. Jackson Overland had quite the reputation as a storyteller. The brown haired boy took in a deep breath, waited for everyone to settle, and began.

"Once, a long time ago, there were two men walking along a road. One was small and weak and only had his wits to help him win a fight. The other one, though, he was more of a giant than a man. He was tall and broad and rumor had it that he'd once torn a tree right up from the ground!" The kids gasped, openmouthed, and he smiled at them again.

"Well, the small man was very kind and gentle and he had never harmed a soul in his life. But the large man, he was loud and rude and arrogant. He thought that he was better than everyone else and that he had the strength to prove it. The large man was walking one way along the road and the small man was walking the other, but there was a problem: the road was narrow, and there were trees on one side and a sheer cliff on the other. Two people could _never_ pass at the same time!"

"So what happened?" one of the smaller children called out. Jack looked at him with mock severity.

"Well, I'll tell you what happened if you let me! The small man and the large man met on the road, but neither of them knew which one should go first. Now the large man, remember, he thought he was better than everyone. There was no question in his mind- _he_ should go first! So he didn't even stop to ask, he just reached out and pushed the small man into the trees like he was opening a door. That was mean of him, wasn't it?" he asked. The kids nodded and gave a chorus of yeahs.

"Well, it sure was, and the smaller man was really very angry at him as he straightened himself up. 'You rude, arrogant man,' he muttered to himself. 'One day you're going to need help from somebody, and _I'm_ certainly not going to give it!' Well as it turned out, he was right. Not thirty feet down the road, the large man slipped on a rock and fell off the cliff!" The children gasped, wide eyed.

"Well, he just barely caught himself and only his great strength saved him from falling to his death. He couldn't hold on forever, though, so he started yelling. 'Help me! Help me!' he hollered as loud as he could. Now the only person around to hear him was the small man. But what had the small man just said to himself?" The kids consulted with one another briefly.

"That he wasn't gonna help the big man no matter what," their spokesman announced solemnly. Jack nodded somberly.

"That's exactly what he said, Noah. So the small man heard the large man yelling from the cliff and do you know what he did?" The children all shook their heads. "Well, the small man had a choice, you see. There were two things he could do: he could do exactly as he'd said, and just go on his way and leave the large man to fall. After all, why should he risk his neck to help? He didn't know the large man, all he'd ever done was be rude to him and push him off to the side of the road. Or, he could help him anyway. Well, after a few seconds he grabbed a rope out of his pack and he strung it around a tree and he helped the large man get back to safety again. Do any of you know why he did that?" The kids consulted again before their little spokesman turned back to him and shook his head.

"Well, I'll tell you why he helped the large man: forgiveness. Do you remember that part in the Bible where Peter asks Jesus how many times he should forgive someone who sins against him?" The kids all nodded. They'd heard that story many times in church. "Well, do you remember what Jesus said to him?" Again, more nods and then a chorus of voices recited the verse.

"'Not seven times, but seventy times seven times'." Jack nodded proudly.

"Exactly. The small man had to choose- would he let his anger and bitterness at the large man win out, or would he forgive him even though the large man had done him wrong? Well, the small man chose to forgive, just like Jesus said to do. And because of that, the large man lived and the small man saved a life. Now, I don't know about you, but I like that ending much better than the other one." They all giggled, and Jack shooed the kids away from the fire and towards their waiting parents. "Now go one little ones. It's time for bed."

Reluctantly, the children abandoned the bonfire and the stories and followed their parents home for the night. The festival was dying down now and tomorrow village life would be back to normal. Jack scooped up his little sister and danced over to his parents, following them down the long path to their cabin by the lake to sleep for what was left of the night. They were the last to leave, and as Jack and his sister chased their shadows down the path in front of their laughing parents, what was left of the bonfire glowed brightly against the dark night's sky.


End file.
